


Fidget

by Anteros



Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-22
Updated: 2010-01-22
Packaged: 2017-10-25 14:40:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/271400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anteros/pseuds/Anteros
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For <a href="http://lokei.livejournal.com/profile"><img/></a><a href="http://lokei.livejournal.com/"><b>lokei</b></a>'s Hornblower Alphabet Soup.</p><p>Set around the time of <i>The Duel / The Even Chance</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Fidget

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://lokei.livejournal.com/profile)[**lokei**](http://lokei.livejournal.com/)'s Hornblower Alphabet Soup.
> 
> Set around the time of _The Duel / The Even Chance_.

_**F is for Fidget**_  
 **Title:** Fidget  
 **Author:** Anteros  
 **Characters:** Archie Kennedy, Horatio Hornblower  
 **Rating:** R  


F is for fingers, flex, fidget, fluttering, fitfully, friend, fascination, figure, flesh, fuse (short), flicking, fishing, furious, fish-wife, feet, front, first, forefinger, furrowed, fuck it, frequently, frustrating, finished.

  


* * *

  
**I**

Horatio was one of the most restless individuals Archie had ever laid eyes on. A creature in perpetual motion, he was never still.

 _Like the sea,_ Archie thought. It was an obvious comparison.

Standing ramrod straight on the deck of the _Indefatigable_ , hands clasped behind his back in respectful imitation of Captain Pellew, Horatio's long fingers continued to flex and fidget. It looked as though one hand had caught the other and the prisoner was trying to escape, fluttering fitfully like a trapped bird.

Achie was as much in awe of their captain as the next midshipman but this didn't prevent him from teasing Horatio mercilessly about his obvious adulation of the illustrious Sir Edward Pellew. "You'll make as fine a captain as Pellew one day” he told Horatio who was standing on deck in what Archie regarded as his captain's pose. "If only you could keep those fingers under control." Horatio chose to ignore Archie's cheek but could not prevent the muscle in his jaw from twitching.

Even when otherwise motionless, lost in his algebra or engrossed in Gibbon, Horatio was not entirely still. He had a habit of running his forefinger continually backwards and forwards along his lower lip.

 _Like an invitation,_ Archie thought. And he learned to look away.

The only time Horatio was truly quiet was when he slept, and he slept like the dead. Archie, whose own sleep was rarely peaceful, often watched in fascination as Horatio fell asleep in the hammock that swung beside his own. He would toss and fidget but as he gradually stilled his full lips would fall slightly open and the creases ease from his brow. And there he was again, the boy that had first clambered aboard _Justinian_ in the rain.

* * *

  
 **II**

Horatio was doing that thing with his lip again.

Archie, Horatio and a couple of the other midshipmen were sitting in the gunroom more or less studiously working on the navigation problems set by Lieutenant Bracegirdle earlier during the forenoon watch. Archie had completed the exercise but suspected he was off by a couple of degrees and was fishing around for the mistake. He suspected a particular fraction of causing the discrepancy but couldn't quite figure out why. Horatio had long since finished the first assignment and was working on some additional exercises kindly provided by Lieutenant Bracegirdle. Mathematical and navigational texts were scattered across the table in front of him. Like Archie, Horatio seemed to be struggling with a particularly intractable problem and was worrying his bottom lip, running his fingers backwards and forwards over the soft flesh. The habit annoyed and fascinated Archie in equal measure. He glanced up at Horatio and frowned, shifting slightly in response to the uncomfortable heat that was kindling in his lap.

Archie Kennedy was not a man endowed with great stores of patience. He had a short fuse and he was growing more irritated by the second. The recalcitrant fraction refused his best efforts at correction and the pressure in his breeches was increasing.

Horatio seemed to be making progress, he left off pulling at his lip and drew one of the books towards him. He licked his finger and started flicking through the pages. Finding the function he required he returned to his slate and absently began worrying his lip again. His finger was still wet where he had licked it to turn the pages and it left a slick sheen on this lower lip.

Archie had also made progress, from annoyed to furious. Furious that his calculation refused to resolve itself, furious at the stiffening pressure in his breeches and furious with Horatio for being so utterly oblivious and goddam annoying. He shifted his feet uncomfortably. The heat and the irritation did not ease.

At last Horatio appeared to have made a breakthrough. He stopped teasing his lip, pulled his slate pencil from behind his ear, dislodging a curl, and started writing. He scribbled some figures, crossing out numbers and correcting fractions here and there. Between each correction he tapped his pencil against his teeth and as he tapped the curl bobbed against his cheek.

Relieved as he was that Horatio’s fingers were now otherwise occupied, the tapping added considerably to Archie’s irritation.

“Horatio! Please!” he sighed at last.

“Beg your pardon?” Horatio looked up in surprise.

“You’re tapping.”

“I'm what?”

“Tapping. Your pencil. You're an incorrigible fidget.”

“A what?” said Horatio, he wasn't really paying attention to Archie, his mind clearly still on the problem.

“A fidget” Archie repeated. “It's very distracting.”

“Oh” said Horatio. “Sorry.”

He laid the pencil carefully beside his slate and picked up the book in front of him again. He licked his forefinger, turned a few pages and started on his lip again, his fingers pushing the soft flesh one way then the other. Archie sighed pointedly and rolled his eyes to the deckhead. Horatio continued to read, and to worry his lip. It was red now and wet.

Archie’s patience snapped. “Fuck it!” he swore as he kicked his chair back and stormed out of the gunroom before any of the other mids noticed his by now quite obvious discomfort. “Mr Kennedy!” Horatio exclaimed, predictably shocked by Archie's use of the Anglo Saxon. Archie swore as only upper classes and lowest rating could. “What in heaven's name is the matter?” he demanded of Archie’s departing back. Archie muttered something inaudible and was gone. Horatio furrowed his brows at the two midshipmen at the other end of the table whose own studies had been interrupted by Archie’s sudden and obscene departure.

* * *

  
 **III**

Horatio sighed. Kennedy may have been his dearest friend, to be honest Archie was his only friend but really, he could be so _very_ vexing. And for all his fair speech he had a tongue like a fish-wife. If Horatio didn't know better he might have thought his fine friend had been dragged up in the gutter. His behavior has simply irrational and frequently did not conform to any known logic. He just didn't understand. It was most frustrating. Horatio frowned and returned to his mathematical texts. Picking up a book, he licked his finger, turned a page and there it was, the proof he'd been looking for, right there in front of him.


End file.
